31 Days in Wasteland
by Skylar Hart
Summary: Matthew Williams, Bounty Hunter Extraordinaire, has been hired to track and slay one Mister Ivan Braginski for reasons unknown. Once the deed is done he escorts his wife, Holly, out of the bare land. On their way to their awaiting helicopter, a storm stirs and when they slip into a house for shelter, everything begins to go wrong. Rated M for language and later chapters.


The only sound that dared to accompany the frigid air of winter's  
breath was the soft and whispering crunch of hunting boots in the  
snow. Slowly they trotted, a set of two, until they finally stopped.  
Seconds passed before a loud gun shot exploded in the distance. Hearts  
stopped and, as the time slunk slowly, all began to beat but one. One  
of the sets of footprints began again and again they stilled. The  
whole world seemed to shut down in its confusion until one being dared  
to break the chain. A woman, whom had been the one to collide so  
gracefully over the ice and slush, crouched ever so swan-like over the  
body of a man. The syrup like liquid seeped ever so languidly to twine  
the bleak colours with its counterpart that seemed to twinkle as tears  
of the angels. The woman's worn and hallowed face seemed to show no  
emotions as she slid her pianist fingers to close the fallen being's  
eyes. The bullet-wound that flowered around his heart seemed to swell  
in an almost joyful manner as the reaper who stood above began to strip him.  
First, she scooped up his belongs. Then, after setting them gently  
into a lovely, twining woven basket, she began to strip him. The furs  
seemed to stick close to the cold body as if striving to keep their  
own life, but she pried them apart as if they were glue to a paper.  
Once she had gotten the heavily bloodied chest bare to the  
none-forgiving winds, her ally came silently and sat next to her. This  
was a male of a tall and thin stature. It was obvious that if their  
lives were not as sick and twisted as the minutes sickened them with,  
he would be a wax of a man. Slight muscles over-lain his gangly arms  
that slowly shorned the deceased's lower half. Once they were both set  
they stood. The woman gingerly bent herself over and washed her hands  
of blood in the crystalized dreams of snow-men. A quiet ringing  
emitted from the standing man's pants of fur and he slipped it out  
with a careful grace. Cradling it in his gloved hands, he held the  
plastic of a cellular phone. It was the best that they could use in  
the "wonderland" of white as steel would freeze.  
"Hello?" His voice was a surprisingly quiet although it was easily  
heard over the quiet humming of the swirling breeze. A louder voice  
grumbled over the line and the woman stood with wide, scared eyes. He  
shook his head lovingly at her to show all was well and his cabbage  
violet eyes lit upon the large gun that lay hauntingly in the basket.  
"Yes, Sir. Mister Braginski has been killed. From his body we claimed  
a multitude of items-" The voice picked up right as he finished and  
the man stood in a tense and rather irked fashion. The woman next to  
him gazed intently at the ground. If her emerald eyes were able to  
transmit her emotions, the slush would be melted in a pool by her  
dainty and fur clad boots.  
"Yes, Sir. Yes. One shot," The man continued, pausing slightly when he  
was interrupted again and again. "Yes… Yes, we are sure he is dead.  
No, Sir. No breath. No heartbeat. Yes, I-… No, I-…" Finally it looked  
as if he had snapped and his voice raised only two octones, yet the  
whole world seemed to cringe at his cool and dangerous tone. "Sir. I  
am Matthew fucking Williams. You were the one who hired me and I  
suggest you take it from a professional bounty hunter that the man is  
fucking dead." Silence fulfilled the sky now lit ablaze with yellows  
and reds that danced upon his light blond hair. The small looped curl  
that normally slightly obstructed his vision was pushed to the side  
that was not occupied by his hand. He nodded and, realising his  
receiver couldn't see it, he returned his voice back to normal.  
"I know, Sir. I've heard stories. But the man is laying in front of me  
at this very moment. All of his items have been confiscated and his  
clothes have been gathered. If he had not died from the wound, then  
the cruel breath of the Earth cradled his head into eternal slumber."  
Finally he relaxed his stance and took a deep breath of the nipping  
air. Finally he nodded and snapped the plastic shut with a glance to  
the woman by his side. She was now looking at him, emerald-green eyes  
flaming like the vegetation of the Scottish moors where she grew up.  
They were worried and her frail body began to sway in the slight  
breeze. She was terribly strong physically as opposed to her appearance  
but the weakness was only showed to her mate. Matthew felt his heart  
melt as he wrapped his arms around her. The fur that encased both of  
them didn't allow for much sensuality. No where in this wasteland of  
Russia would let them and even Matthew's homeland of Canada, and their  
current living place, would allow them to do more than hug as they  
would adore to. She trembled in his c comforting hold and he kept her  
clutched into him until he deemed it time to break.  
"Holly, darling. We should be getting home. It's starting to get dark,  
eh?" She looked up at him with a face full of light freckles as the  
fading light glimmered into her gaze. Holly stole his breath away as  
the only thing on Earth that he'd dare feel a tender spot for.  
Eventually she nodded, her head of frazzled brown banana curls  
bouncing on her shoulders. Holly clutched the basket and snuggled  
close to Matthew. He smiled and kissed the top of her before gathering  
the surprisingly heavy clothing into his arms. They had been living in  
this crater for over a month now, surviving in the wilderness the best  
that they could. After living off the funds of Matthew's bounty  
hunting and Holly's weaving, they were considered the highest of  
classes. In two months they would be plumped up again and chuffed as a  
pigeon. Squeezing her eyes shut against the harsh glare of the gray  
and white world that attempted to clasp her sanity and crack it to a  
slash of pieces (1). Matthew guided her along with a slight importance,  
knowing how hard it would be to survive the night in general, especial  
in the middle of this… plane of pain. The night had just begun to  
creep over the scouring fires of the sky and subdue them to sleep as  
the couple stumbled upon the plot they were looking for. A mansion  
loomed ahead if them, an eerie light protruding through grimy windows  
that seemed to squeak with age even as they stood still. Holly  
whimpered slightly as her strength and courage slipped away in the  
past 31 days. Clouds slithered above them and a loud crack tore apart  
their souls. Holly clung to Matthew horrified, burying her face in  
his shoulder. Lightening had been her rival since she had been a  
child. Her parents had been stolen away and although she had 4  
brothers to protect her, her heart tore its seams a bit more at every  
steaming second. He rubbed her arm warmly as the rain poured upon  
them, sheets on sheets of tears wept by the souls of clouds. Taking a  
deep breath, Matthew kicked down the door with a strength that no one  
could think of him to have. She trailed in like a bee and sat herself  
on a covered couch, dust rising in an opaque cloud in front of her. A  
loud, bloody scream e emitted from the area where she had gone and  
Matthew ran to her.  
"Holly? Damn it, Holly?!"

1: a slash of pieces: Several large and neatly split segments


End file.
